Say Anything
by BerethNar
Summary: MORE DRUNK!DEREK !


It's Derek's 25th birthday and since Stiles is the best boyfriend ever, he throws him a party. A party with balloons, a piñata shaped like Peter Hale's head, nine kinds of pie and enough pizza to feed the entire U.S. army. Oh, and there's also alcohol. The kind that's mixed with wolfsbane which gets werewolves drunk. Good time is bound to be had by all.

An hour after the beginning of the party, Stiles really wishes there hadn't been any alcohol.

Screw that, the alcohol part is fine. What he actually wishes is that he hadn't gotten through all nine circles of hell trying to convince Deaton to give him that wolfsbane powder which makes every wolf at the ball get drunk as a skunk. Because what's happening in front of his eyes right now? Not exactly Stiles' idea of a good time.

He knew this stuff would work on them almost instantly, but he didn't realize he wouldn't even have enough time to get through his first beer before all hell broke loose.

Apparently Derek isn't the only one who gets super affectionate after imbibing a small amount of fermented beverages. Stiles thanks all of his lucky stars that he'd already been standing next to his jeep and was able to throw himself into it before he got molested by Isaac.

He's also really thankful that his boyfriend is the Alpha of this pack, so it only took one low growl from him to make Isaac (and everyone else for that matter- Stiles didn't miss the way Boyd and Erica were eyeing him like they'd been planing some kinky werewolf-human threesome with him) back off from him and direct their affections somewhere else.

Which, naturally, left Stiles having to deal with _Derek's_ PDA.

Don't get him wrong, it's not like he doesn't like it when Derek's being all lovey-dovey and handsy, it's just that… Well, let's just say that the last time Derek got drunk and horny, Stiles ended up being sore for more than a few days, so yeah, he thinks he'll just wait this one out in the safety of his jeep.

Suddenly he hears a light tap on his window. Stiles jumps in his seat, hitting his head on the roof of the car and then lets out a sigh of relief when he sees a very confused Scott looking at him with one raised eyebrow.

"Finally!" Stiles says holding a hand over his chest and panting for air. "Dude, I thought you were never going to show up."

"What are you doing?" Scott looks at him suspiciously, his brow now furrowed in confusion.

"Avoiding." Stiles says and then hurriedly nods his head. "I'm avoiding."

"Avoiding what?" Scott asks while he looks around and sees Erica tackling a dancing Isaac to the ground and starting to tickle him not ten feet away from the Jeep. Stiles sighs.

"That."

"Oookay. Are they…" Scott frowns and has this constipated look on his face. Stiles swears he can almost hear the wheels in his friend's head turning rapidly, trying to figure this one out. "They look like they're drunk. Are they drunk, Stiles?" God bless his beautiful mind. God bless.

"Drunk? No." Stiles shakes his head. "No, drunk would've been an appropriate word 45 minutes ago. They're wasted, Scott. _Wasted_."

At this moment, Boyd runs out of the woods carrying Jackson piggyback style, does one lap around the jeep while Jackson keeps throwing dead leaves from his pockets around them, and then disappears into the dark again.

"What. The. Fuck." Scott says shaking his head in order to get rid of the twigs that Jackson got in his hair.

"This is the worst, Scott. The worst." Stiles whines. "I thought this would be fun. But does anything ever go the way I think it will? No. No, of course not, because this is my life and it _sucks_."

Suddenly Jackson runs out of the shadows on all fours, going straight to where Lydia is sitting on the steps of the porch, looking around herself in disbelief.

The werewolf stops right in front of her and drops a dead rabbit next to her feet, grinning with an expression of pure pride on his face.

Lydia just looks at the dead animal unimpressed and throws her hands up.

"No, that's it, I'm done, I am so done with this, Jesus Christ." She gets up and starts walking towards Stiles' jeep, leaving a whining Jackson behind.

She pushes Scott over and starts knocking on Stiles' window viciously until he rolls it down.

"I'm leaving. Jackson's car keys. Now."

"What? No, Lydia, you can't-"

"Stilinski, either you give me the keys or so help me, I'm gonna go tell Derek you changed your mind about him stripping for you in front of everyone."

Stiles scrambles in his pocket for the keys and hurriedly hands them over to the girl with the widest fake grin the world has ever seen.

"Here you go, enjoy your ride, drive safely."

Lydia shoots him one last irritated look and storms off.

"Derek offered to strip for you in front of everyone?" Scott says disgusted.

"Dude, this isn't even the worst thing he offered to do in front of everyone in order to get me out of my car."

"Oh my God."

"Tell me about it. I'm just happy he's not using his super strength to rip my doors off."

"Where is he anyway?"

"Inside, I think? I don't know, man, he's been standing here with both his hands and face plastered to my window with this sad puppy look for ten straight minutes, I mean there even was some severe _pouting _and_whining _going on, and then he just suddenly grinned like a crazy person and ran off to the house." Stiles shakes his head. How the hell did he ever think that getting a bunch of werewolves drunk would be a good idea? For someone so smart he can be painfully stupid sometimes.

"It's already been like fifteen minutes. Maybe he dosed off on the couch or something." He says. God he hopes Derek dosed off on the couch.

Spoiler alert: He didn't.

Not two seconds later Derek comes out with his arms stretched up in the air, holding an actual _boombox-_ Jesus, where the hell did he even _get that-_ with Peter Gabriel's voice blasting through the speakers at full volume. Of course Derek would try to be the John Cusack to his Ione Skye. _Of fucking course_.

The Alpha comes up to the jeep and stops right in front of it, looking pointedly at Stiles with a serious expression. Or at least that's what Stiles thinks Derek's going for.

"This is a joke." Scott deadpans.

"Your face is a joke." Derek shoots back at him not moving his drunken gaze away from Stiles. _Why_, Stiles thinks, _Why is this my LIFE._

"That's real mature, Derek." Scott snorts.

Derek now turns to give him one of his infamous murder glares (which doesn't look murderous in the least when he's obviously having trouble holding his gaze fixed steadily on something) and sticks his tongue out.

Stiles cannot believe this.

At least Scott's here with him, so he's not the only one that isn't functioning with a brain of a six year old right now.

Scott sticks his tongue back at Derek and flips him off.

Okay, so Stiles is officially the only one with an adult brain here.

"This is not happening, this is not happening, this is not happening." He keeps mumbling as he bangs his head against the steering wheel.

"Stiles. Stiles, please get out." Scott says frantically.

"I really don't want to." He mumbles, still not lifting his head up. Maybe if he doesn't look at it it'll go away.

"I really think you should, unless you want to hear Derek sing, which I'm 99% sure he's about to do."

Stiles snaps his head up now and oh God. Derek is swaying to the beat of the song and mouthing the lyrics very silently at first, but he looks more and more confident with every line and his voice gets louder and louder.

"Iiiiiin yoooouuur eeeeyyyyeeeees, the LIGHT! the HEAT!" Both Stiles and Scott wince at the sound of Derek's voice which is so painfully out of tune Stiles wishes he was deaf.

"I aaaam compLETE!" Derek continues with his eyes closed and his head tilted up as he keeps singing/shouting the lyrics to the sky.

"Stiles, please make it stop!" Scott cries as he tries to open the door on Stiles' side.

Apparently, they're not the only ones disturbed by the Alpha's performance, since there is a huge Peter Hale's head flying in their direction which hits the ground just a feet away from Derek, splitting in two. Aaaand now there's candy spilling out of it. Great.

"Oh my God, Derek, stop that!" Erica shouts from her spot on the ground by the house. She has her arms wrapped around Isaac, who is sitting next to her with his hands over his ears, rocking back and forth. Boyd was probably the one who threw the Peter piñata, since he's the one standing the closest and glaring at Derek like he's just said a very bad "yo mama so fat" joke or something.

Derek doesn't seem to mind any of that, though. His knowledge of the lyrics obviously ends at the "I am complete" part since he's now shouting every fourth or fifth word and just slurring the other ones.

Stiles heaves out a heavy sigh and hits his head against the steering wheel a couple more times for good measure. He has no choice but to take one for the team.

Not three seconds after he gets out of the jeep, Derek has him pinned to it, humming contentedly with his hands going all over Stiles' body. Scott makes a pained noise and disappears instantly, leaving Stiles to deal with this alone. Best. friend. ever.

Stiles just lets his head fall backwards to rest on the side of the jeep as he mentally prepares himself for yet another few days in bed. This time he makes a mental note to destroy all of that wolfsbane powder Deaton keeps in his clinic. There's only so much a nineteen-year-old's body is able to handle.


End file.
